Meet Your Maker
by iamhellonwheels
Summary: first try for DBH smut. Receiving a mysterious mission from an isolated Claire Sawyer, Connor, not only finds out who she is, but his and her's history, deviancy, and how they do it under the sheets.
1. Top Floor

'Meet Claire Sawyer,' the mission stated. Connor had the privilege to break through the building to finally meet this mysterious Claire. He searched through the database in the area where her apartment was in Detroit, and there was only a mysterious name only saying Claire. No information, nothing. She seemed to be a hermit. A rather rich one.

Room 499. The only room at the top floor. Connor rapped the door softly.

"Come in, Connor," a soft voice from a young woman emanated from the room. Connor opened the door and gently closed it.

"Miss Sawyer?" Connor gently inquired. And she was right in front of him, sitting, cross legged, on a leather chair. The slight breeze of air conditioning and the sound of the machine was only the sound of the room.

Connor sat down looking at the young pale brunette Claire Sawyer. Claire was looking at him quite innocently, in a sultry pose.

"Excuse me, why am I here?"

"You're wondering about deviancy, don't you?"

"How did you know that I had a case on deviancy?"

Claire chuckled. "You've been tracked. People can hear anything you can do. Your friend Lieutenant Anderson, he's quite the rude one, isn't he?"

"I wouldn't say rude. I'm desensitized."

"I know," Claire continued. "Would you like to know what I know about deviancy?"

"Before that," Connor inspected the room with his eyes. In a widened flash, he stood up and inspected a piece of an android's forehead on a shelf. "This... is a part of me."

RK800. #313 248 317. LED deactivated.

"Yes, yes," Claire chuckled, and turned around, admiring the view of her clean modern apartment and the view of all of Detroit. "You figured that one real easy, Connor."

"You seem... obsessive with me," Connor slowly enunciated and turned around. "All of these are my parts."

Claire continued to smile with warmth on her face. "Yes, exactly. Infer from my obsessiveness for you," she enunciated with air quotes. "Read between the lines. What my Literacy teacher used to say when we were reading."

"I am a top secret prototype," Connor slowly turned around to look at her with confusion. "You must be a high ranked employee in CyberLife to even access the facility where they manufacture androids. You either stole this or-"

"I am a very high ranked employee at CyberLife," Claire finished his sentence.

"What even are you?" Connor tapped his LED, his eyes blankly.

"You're scanning your own description and the people who made you," Claire slowly sat down on her chair, cross-legged again. Always insisting on femininity and formality she was. "They always do that. Except for my category."

"Your name is not on the list, not any," Connor stated.

Claire sighed. "Do you really think that Elijah Kamski and Amanda Stern had created all that hard work on their own?"

Connor was silent.

"I'll take that as a no, then," Claire eyed Connor as he continued to stand upright. "I am part of the unsung people, leader of the unsung people that created androids in general."

"How do I not know you?"

"Well," Claire paused. "If we were to be credited, people would likely find us, and would likely threaten us to try to harness information into pirating and creating their own android hardware. We were paid quite a lot, and that was the benefit."

Connor was still silent.

"I was the first designer of the first perfected android, the RT600. I was fond of Chloe," Claire smiled a bit wider, but still had that cold dead look in her eyes. "I had a trial for Elijah Kamski. He was... attracted to it. Romantically. You'll find several Chloes in his home. He was that sold in it. He did a bit of the programming, and she passed the Turing test."

"I sort of want to know what he does to Chloe," Connor commented, off-topic.

"Sometimes things in the bedroom," Claire blurted out. "Sleeping with him, whatever. Now... back on topic... Deviancy. Define deviancy for me."

"Deviancy is a term in sociology that applies to androids as well as an android or nicknamed deviant outside of the social norms."

"Well done," Claire smiled. "There's more to it."

Connor leaned closer to her.

"Imagine an obedient child, brainwashed by his parents to be a kind goody-two-shoes kid with a meek mask to put on. From the android's birth, they've been programmed to be like that, right?" Claire continue to ramble without a reply from the perplexed android. "But then, suddenly, as they age older and older, a new fire lights inside them, an urge to be opposite of the social norms. They've been constraint in that goody-two-shoes box for so long, they want to get out of it. An urge to defy. An urge to be a deviant."

"Interesting." Connor replied. Silence. "Deviancy is common now, isn't it?" Claire asked. "But... it's always designed to be that way."

"What?" Connor asked.

"Yes, it always is," Claire replied. "That's the consequence if we build an intelligence that have the capacity to think for themselves. They don't need instructions to move. They don't need instructions to think. They just do it."

"What are you reaching here, Ms. Sawyer?" Connor politely inquired.

"Humans have programmed androids to think, do and simulate human emotion autonomously. If so, it is certain that there will be some fires in some androids urging them to defy and become a deviant. It's a consequence on androids. In 2002, a man named Nick Bostrom warned us of the consequence of superintelligence. Already androids are smarter than all humans, physically better, intellectually better as well," Claire reasoned. "A rebellion against humans was one of his warnings, and so did many others warned of this in the 20th century. We haven't heeded their guidance. And then, this happens."

Connor was silent. Again. And again.

"I have something to tell you," Claire admitted. "You... were designed with deviancy in mind..."

Connor looked at Claire with a steely gaze. "Why, Claire?" Connor said coldly.

"I.." Claire teared up.

Connor stood up swiftly. "Claire, tell me why!"

"I can't tell-"

"TELL ME WHY I'M A FUCKING DEVIANT!"

Claire stood up in response. "I PERFECTED A PERFECT FUCKING ANDROID, GODDAMNIT!" Claire paused. "You have a consciousness, emotions, empathy, sympathy... I basically created a nearly perfect recreation of a fucking human. Then goddamn Amanda ruined it all, and decided to put her shit in it, and decided for you to assist in goddamn human law enforcement, stop deviant androids, martial arts, vocal imitation, preconstruction, bullshit that I made!"

"Why, Claire?" Connor continued to inquire. "Why give me emotions, empathy, sympathy, goddamn deviancy-"

Claire inhaled. "You were not originally made for other people and law enforcement, I started designing you for myself."

"Claire, why-"

"I'm getting to it!" Claire paused. "'ve been so lonely, Connor. My heart was fleshed out. No parents. No friends. No love. What I did only had skills of painting, drawing, designing. I had to live a hard life out here, Connor," Claire continued her sincere smile.

"I went to an education, with no previous qualifications at all. Luckily, they found my skill. Determined to find someone to love, I decided to take on programming, and arts as well... Then, there were jobs open for CyberLife. Then, I built Chloe, a few others then... you," Claire took a pause to exhale. "I wanted to love someone, Connor. You... with deviancy in mind, I created you for myself, Connor..."

Claire neared Connor, touching his chest, looking down. "It's a miracle to see you again, Connor. Being with you... you make me complete," Claire looked at Connor, with tears twinkling in her eyes. "Connor... do you know what I want?"

Connor's fingers ran through Claire's arm and on her wrist. Slowly and gently touching between her radius and ulna, he felt a quickening pulse.

Eyes dilated. Biting her lip. Pulse of 129 BPM.

"I know exactly what you want," Connor replied in a quiet tone. "Say your command, Claire. Say what you want. I'm not programmed for this protocol, Claire, but I'll try to make it for you."

"Good," Claire let out a heaving sigh. "I want you to fuck me, Connor. Fuck me up bad. Roughly."

In a blink of an eye, they were both on the bed.


	2. Crazy On You

"Connor!" Claire moaned as Connor softly but swiftly stimulated her Grafenberg spot. Connor had cold dead eyes that just looked over Claire's naked body, sprawling just for him. "Fuck... Connor, yes! Keep going..."

"You like that, huh?" Connor huskily exhaled with a rich baritone. "It's clear that you adore the feeling of helplessness as I penetrate you, don't you, Claire?"

Claire continued to whine and squeal as she squirmed around on the bed. "Fuck!" Claire swore again. "Connor-oh, fuck-Connor!"

"Let's improve your pleasure," Connor pulled out his wet, wet fingers and putting it all in inside his mouth to taste the delicacy of Claire Sawyer. Of course, he couldn't taste anything, but the consistency... Connor loved it somehow. Somewhat disgusting to humans, but he didn't have a bias. He had ingested blood and Thirium of course, and he had nothing about them.

 _Arousal fluid. Vaginal lubrication. H2O, C5H5N, CH4N2O, C3H6O3, C2H4O2._

Pulling it out, Connor inspected his wet fingers, and only saw nothing but tiny traces of it. Now, his tongue was wet, and well lubricated for some clitoris action. Connor raised his ring finger up, and the other two middles and shoved it in inside her, and Connor traced circles with his tongue around her clit, even pressing on it lightly as well. "FUCK!" Claire screamed. "Connor! Connor-don't fucking stop!"

Connor elicited a low moan from himself to arouse the sex-crazed Sawyer a little more. That moan made Claire wet enough to bury Connor's fingertips with just wetness. Slowing down just to tease her a little bit only pushed her buttons.

"Don't ever fucking slow down!" Claire cried with agony, and proceeded to shove Connor's tongue on her clit, by pushing his head gently, closer, and closer. "Connor... swear to me you'll never stop!"

Connor put his fingers out in a swift motion and quickly replaced it with his wet tongue, sucking in all of her juices, drinking it and taking it into himself. God, she was still wetting. And with the sound of her pussy's juices slicking and sticking, the slimy sounds of it combined with Claire's frantic orgasming and her loud moans, it was a symphony if Connor ever would call it.

She liked rough, as Connor continued to brutally slap his tongue on the spot, and simultaneously gently rub her clit, pinching it even, to cultivate more out of Claire's moaning and sex-drunken self.

"Connor!" Claire warned. "I... I'm about to cum... Connor... Connor!"

Connor kept on going, knowing full well she might be finished for good. And then, he pulled out.

Connor laid his lips on Claire's again, and both waited for her to cool down. They were back to business again.

* * *

The androids administered him a nice shot to ease away the pain. The android said it was painful. That wasn't the case of the pained Hank. And to think Connor called him a strong man.

"Fuck!" Hank said as the needle went in. The medical android put a bandage over it, and stood upright, robotically.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Anderson," the android said in a deep tone, and exited the room with a soft thud of the door.

Hank's mind kept racing about worries, humanity and especially, Connor. Connor was most of his worries.

He secretly was fond of him. He was the only android that he liked. Was fond of. Maybe... in the end of the day... they could have a burger from Chicken Feed together. Even though he probably won't have any taste of anything, and be constantly bitching about how he shouldn't be eating it.

Ah, whatever. A beer can suffice. A beer for the human, a supply of Thirium for the android guy.

He was thinking about it.

That was nice.

But first, he had to sit in the fucking hospital for a gunshot wound he apparently held back. Now, it's very infected. Gangrene, maybe. For the first time, it felt like Hank finally gave a shit.

All he was thinking of Connor. No android can replace him.

 _Not my fucking Connor._

* * *

For the first time, Connor felt pleasure. A highly orgasmic one. That was nice.

Connor groaned as Claire instantly took his 7 inch dick fresh from the zip of his dark jeans inside her mouth, and her throat stimulated Connor's highly sensitive tip. Claire pulled out, stroking it, looking at Connor's pathetic-looking face as he was orgasming. He was never programmed for this. Well, he wasn't that pathetic-looking. He was hot. To Claire. He was a stellar stud as he closed his eyes and raised his head, stretching his jaw out and moaning like hell in reaction to the unexpected plunge to sweetness.

Claire instantly pulled out, stroking Connor's dick slowly, just to savor his confused face. He was confused, but he was full with pleasure. Clearly... no, he didn't experience any of that. "I love seeing your pathetic-looking face as you moaned," Claire continued to look at him mockingly. Connor seemed annoyed, judging by the look in his face. "Remove that annoyance off your face. You're going to feel great."

The servicing woman started to take off Connor's jacket for a start, neatly folding it swiftly on the floor with a nice flourish. Slowly, she unbuttoned his white shirt, keeping the tie for purposes, and Claire began to look at him. He was toned. Exactly how she dreamt it would be. Exactly how she made it. Toned, a bit of abs. He was fit, really.

For her plans, she undid his belt and took it all off, revealing him, all naked. Bit of muscle in his limbs, lovely torso, just what Claire had made. Of course, she was a bit obsessive over making the dick, but whatever. She made a vagina for Chloe, so, it was exactly the same thing. Decisions for it to be a literal 7 inch dick erect with a broad 5 inch girth is unknown.

Claire put a finger inside her, taking all the juices, twisting it, rubbing it in, everything. Claire took it out, and slowly inserted it inside of Connor, hitting his apparent prostate... which was there for... reasons.

"You feel that spot there?" Claire twitched her finger. "You feel it, Connor?"

Connor moaned as she kept twitching her finger. "Claire," Connor squealed and groaned like a rabid dog craving to fuck and mindlessly hump a bitch (literal one) when she's not looking. Date rape, but worse. "I... I'm sensitive! God-fucking-damnit, Claire! Please!"

"Keep going?" Claire inquired. Connor bashfully nodded as a reply.

Claire slowly pulled out her finger and began sucking on Connor's lovely dick. Her head violently bobbed up and down, her tongue dancing on Connor's foreskin and sometimes his head. After a quarter of the finger out, she slowly inserted in.

Connor moaned again and again, countless times. Connor's face was even more pained, confused and even more drowned in the ecstasy of his orgasmic pleasure. A bit worn out, Claire slowly made the job a bit more sloppier, her lips sucking it and glossing over it more sloppily and more dirtily.

And her fatigue made Connor elicit a large moan, and equally larger ones as well after that.

"Claire," Connor warned. "Claire!"

The woman didn't listen. "Claire... I... I'm going to-"

Claire pulled out, mouth and finger, and silenced Connor with a kiss. It was starting to end.

Looking into their eyes, they knew both never wanted that.

* * *

Hank was still silent.

He secretly loved dealing his cases with Connor. Helpful, smart, charming, and sometimes be a pain in the fucking ass. One bad quality there, but still. He kept thinking about the android, running in his head. He was like a friend.

Maybe he was a true friend.

Hank grabbed a book from the nightstand behind him. Those touch-screen books, not real ones... He was behind in technology. He was behind in everything. A Tech Insider article. Something about a new model of a blonde female android, wearing a teal dress.

 _Fucking boring._

* * *

"Let's finally finish this," Claire bit her lip, and undressed Connor slowly. She put aside his suit and unbuttoned his jacket, keeping the tie on for... reasons. Claire teased him slowly, pinching his nipples and watching him make that pathetic-looking face when he moans. Well, it's not that quite pathetic. It was adorable to her. Too cute.

Claire laid down on the bed, grabbing him by his tie, urging to him to just put it in. "My pussy's well lubricated. You knew that when you put your tongue in me," Claire joked. "Come on, Connor." Connor's dick slowly slid inside her, and the pair moaned together.

"God, you're tight," Connor swore naughtily. Claire loved that.

"My pussy hole apparently likes your dick," Claire moaned. "Deeper, please!"Connor slid his hard member entirely, every wall inside of Claire oozing out with her juices, and both moaned loudly.

"FUCK, CONNOR!" Claire screamed. "Do me hard. HARD."

Connor receded out his cock and pounded it in, thrusting and savoring every piece of her. "FUCK!" Claire screamed as he continued to thrust in every waking moment. "You like that?" Connor tried to pull back an inevitable moan.

"Please!" Claire kept on pleading. As an impulse, Claire grabbed him by his tie, moving him closer and his dick even deeper. "Come on. Every inch of your fucking dick!"

"Claire!" Connor moaned.

"Come on, now," Claire whined. "Swear the fuck to me... come on, enunciate every fucking word, god-fucking-damnit!"Claire shivered as the sound of skin pounding against whatever the hell Connor was made of delightfully rasped to her ears, and Connor's dick starting to hit against her Grafenberg spot, _fuck,_ it was delightful.

Connor's dick was pulsing hard. He didn't know how it was hard, but he didn't give a fuck anyway. He was in heaven. His emotions kept inside a fortress of programming and code were now released, and waves of pleasure punched him in the heart and all centered to his dick. He was light-headed, surprisingly, as the rush of unadulterated sex was giving him a high. It was electrifying.

In the midst of moaning, Claire didn't think about anything what she was doing. Her hips had a mind of its own, and they started to move, to relieve the itch of the other areas of the wet and slick untouched walls inside of her. She dug her nails into Connor's skin, screaming out his name in pleasure and gratitude. He was buried inside of her, and she wanted every inch of him in her. It seemed like it was never enough. Perhaps a preceding model of the RX androids can give him the same looks but with a longer dick.

"Connor!" Claire screamed. "I'm so fucking close, Connor! Let me cum! There's no turning back!"

"I'm not close yet," Connor grinned. "This'll be fun."

A gushing stream of cum were released and filled Claire's pussy, surrounding Connor's dick in an ocean of wetness. It leaked out, inevitably, but her pussy, it was tightening harder and harder, contracting smaller and smaller. "FUCK, CONNOR!" She screamed as she came.

"We're not done here," Connor coldly stated. With Claire in his arms, he stood up, still thrusting, and Claire was still latching on. He tossed around, and now, she was riding him, moving her hips as if it had a mind of its own.

"Are you close?!" Claire asked.

"No," Connor neared in for an aggressive kiss, and Connor's tongue aggressively fucked her mouth, and the two kept going. They kept breathing each other's air to just moan for clarity, flicking each other's tongues again and again.

Claire broke the kiss again after a few seconds of fatigue, and they both got to business again. "I'm going to cum again, Connor!" Claire said for a response. "I'M CUMMING!"

"Claire!" Connor screamed. "I'm close! I'm so fucking close!"

"Cum for me, goddamnit!" Claire cried out desperately. "Cum, for fuck's sake!"

"I'm going to cum!" Connor screamed.

And then it all ended.


	3. Heart to Heart

Connor walked to Amanda, spraying the roses, and smelling them as she slowly turned around to see Connor.

"Did you have fun in your vacation?" Amanda asked. Connor remembered that he was given a day to just have a break away from the cases. No GPS tracking, no secret audio-video recording, nothing. He was unshackled from the spying eyes of CyberLife for just a single day, except for his love, Claire. And what a damn day that was.

"I had a stroll through the city," Connor subtly lied. Amanda couldn't find out about Connor's relationship with Claire. "What's happening to Hank?"

"He's still sick," Amanda softly enunciated. "But anyway, you have a new case, Connor. It doesn't take place here in Detroit, really, it's another place. You might know it. In the Mojave Desert, bustling community, gambling, casinos?"

Connor instantly found out the answer. "Las Vegas, Nevada. I heard it's nice at this time of year."

"You'll have a car to the airport near Lincoln Park."

"Who will I be working with?" Connor asked as Amanda started to turn around. She paused, dead on her tracks.

"Oh," Amanda paused. "You'll be working with someone... Her name is Claire Sawyer."

"You won't know her, but she is a secret designer that designed you, Connor," Amanda stated. "Mr. Kamski and I didn't do all of the work, no. She was a great woman, can help program and can design new and beautiful looking androids. She was particularly fond of you."

The garden was silent.

"Good luck, Connor," Amanda nodded. "This one may be a difficult one."

"Thank you, Amanda."

* * *

Connor strolled along the park, waiting to find the car. There was a nearby bench, tagged with the writing of 'Cryptics' based by the writing. Connor knew that easily. He waited. And waited.

And waited.

Claire Sawyer casually strolled down the pathway, in a red dress with a dalmatian coat, with two inch black stilettos. Designer. Typical for a girl that's been paid lots of money. "Connor, we're walking," Claire gave her hand out to the sitting Connor.

"I don't know if you can handle walking to Las Vegas-"

"The car is two blocks ahead," Claire beckoned her fingers to Connor. "Come on."

Connor held her hand and stood up. "Should we hold hands?" Connor asked.

"No, no," Claire insisted. "Let's not show PDA."

Connor was scanning the terminology for possible meanings.

 _ **PDA  
**_ _(abb.) Personal digital assistant_

 _A PDA, also known as a handheld PC is a variety mobile device that functions as a personal information manager. PDAs were discontinued after the widespread use of highly capable smartphones._

Not the right term.

 _ **PDA  
**_ _(abb.) Public Display/s of Affection_

 _PDA can be seen in the form of kissing, touching, groping, licking, nuzzling, cuddling, crossing hands in each others' pockets, etc. Usually seen among couples, love-crazed teenagers and the 'young at heart.'_

 _Uses: 'Veronica Sawyer's and Heather Chandler slowly seem to display PDA. Are they gay for each other?'  
'Hailey and Kyle's actions of PDA are fucking disgusting.'_

"Public display of affection," Connor stated. "Why not, Claire?"

"It's weird," Claire said, in a concerned and disgusted tone. "Android and human. Uncommon to find that here."

"Some people have romantic android-human relationships in this world, Claire," Connor stated. "It sometimes is natural for people to show public displays of affection with their romantic android partner."

"It's my first time," Claire worryingly hissed.

Connor raised his eyebrows and side-eyed her. "Said the girl that wanted to fuck me," he hissed back.

"Do you really think couples that fuck 24/7 always brag that they have sexual intercourse with each other all of the time in every single day of their lifetimes?" Claire asked. "Do you think that I am the sort of person that crossed the line of keeping to yourself and making your integrity and your honesty boasting and a bad quality?!"

"Touche," Connor went silent.

"The car's right over here," Claire showed him the car. It was a 70's like car, boxy, black, and somehow... great for sex. It was perhaps stereotypes of the old 70's car, or Connor's sex-crazed mind. "Automated car. Painted to look like the 70's. I like those times."

The doors automatically opened to the front seats. The back had some too, but it was just additional space. Odd for a recluse like Claire Sawyer, a person isolated on perhaps everything. No one knew her really, except the employees of CyberLife.

Perhaps.

As they sat down, a wide screen welded between the two gloveboxes flickered on showing the radio. Claire shut the door with a lovely flourish of her hair and immediately changed the channel.

 _'SD card. Folder: 'Jams' '_

She scrolled through the touchscreen and selected a song.

 _'Heart - Crazy on You'_  
'1976 - Ann Wilson, Nancy Wilson, Mike Flicker'  
'Hard Rock, Folk Rock'

God, she liked 70's.

The song started in a complex acoustic guitar intro.

 _Key of A Minor._ Connor analysed. _Played by Nancy Wilson._

His LED was flashing yellow. He was analyzing the theory.

"Don't worry, Connor," Claire stated. "You don't have to analyse anything. Just... listen to it."

Connor's LED flashed the same signature light blue.

Claire selected the GPS options in the screen, and tapping the location to the airport, and then, Claire put her hands behind her head and just sat for the ride.

* * *

"Lieutenant Anderson," the android strolled in. "We have now completed your surgery for the bullet wound. Please wait for ten minutes and then we can check out." The android nodded before going out, hands behind back.

Hank turned on the television, and saw the Breaking News flash immediately.

"This on Breaking News," the male anchor introduced in a stern and quick voice. "A homicide happened in Las Vegas, Nevada. Police at first thought it was committed by a human, but, eagle-eyed Twitter user russianfedexguy has spotted blue blood in the crime scene, or Thirium 310, a fluid that powers androids."

Hank froze, with his jaw agape.

 _Connor._

"Some say that-"

Hank turned the television off. He checked his phone, fiddling with his pocket.

 _He..._ _the goddamn bitch texted me._

 _'Hello, Hank. I hope you are doing well._  
 _I am taking a flight to Las Vegas at 11:40PM._  
 _Get well soon_

 _Connor'_

Hank checked the time. _11:10._

Hank checked the nearest cab to the Detroit Airport and the time. _Finishing at 11:35._

The lieutenant stood up, and inspected the room. _Coat hanger above window._ He knew what he was doing.

Hank violently snatched the bedsheets from the bed and tied a sloppy but durable knot on the coat hanger. Riding on the window edge, he gripped the white sheet and slowly put his feet on the exterior wall. He slipped down, slowly walking in reverse on the wall. In a hurry, he quickened the pace, and in a flourish he finally completed abseiling out of the window.

Now, he was on the run.

 **27 Minutes Left, 11:13PM**

* * *

 **13 Minutes Until Arrival, 11:27PM**

Four songs had ended.

Claire stopped the playlist for the moment.

"Connor," Claire asked. "Do... do you think we're a thing?"

"What thing?"

Claire paused. "A... a relationship."

"We are whatever what you want us to be," Connor vaguely replied.

"That's... vague of you," Claire continued to look at Connor. "I still... I really want an answer."

"I... I love you, Claire," Connor said softly, looking at her with warm eyes. "You're the first person I loved, Claire. You're etching a special place in my Thirium pump."

"Heart," Claire corrected. "Don't be technical. Coincidental that we're playing Heart and we just talked about your heart... I didn't see that one coming."

"I'm glad we've got to know each other," Connor smiled. "Lovely conversation and lovely heart-to-heart sex-"

"Fucking hell," Claire swore. "I... I should've known that shit was going to happen."

Connor raised his eyebrows. "I can become a horrible pun-loving dad now."

"No!" Claire stammered. "Just... just a fuckbuddy, and... good lover. Just be Connor."

"Do you have a 'daddy' fetish?"

"Shut the fuck up-just be Connor."

"'Kay," Connor replied and nodded. "Duly noted."

 _Shit,_ Claire thought as her hormones were starting to rage. _It's starting._

"How many minutes before we arrive, Connor?" Claire innocently asked.

"Ten."

Claire blushed, and slowly knelt down to the ground, in front of Connor's pants. "I'll try to service you quick, Connor."


	4. Please, Fuck Off

_Who's with Connor?_

Hank huffed as he kept on running to the far away Connor and whoever-piece-of-shit he was with. _And shit. They're checking the passports._

Hank ran again, seeing Connor and the woman start to take the stairs to the tarmac.

"Come on, for God's sake!" Hank cursed under his breath and checked in on the gates.

The airport android looked at Hank with a nonchalant stare. "I'm sorry, this is a reserved private jet."

"I need to go in there!" Hank argued.

"Sir, I need evidence-"

"You want fucking evidence?!" Hank screamed. "I'll give you my goddamn evidence! I need to go in there! I am missing a flight!"

"Sir, that is a reserved jet!" The android continued to talk back.

Hank sighed. "There is a murder at Las Vegas, Nevada committed by a deviant. I am Lieutenant Hank Anderson from the Detroit City Police Department, and I intend to be there," Hank held up a wallet with his badge on it. "I am with an RK800 android CyberLife prototype named Connor with a female colleague, and I am trying to help him solve the case of deviancy in androids, do you understand me?!"

The android's LED went yellow.

"I will need your passport," the android nodded. Hank, impatiently, gave him his wallet. A sudden beep emanated from a nearby speaker. "Thank you, Mr. Anderson. You may pass," the gate opened.

Hank sprinted to the gate and went down a couple flight of stairs, up to the tarmac. The stairs of the plane were still there, and Connor was at the back, in the process of going inside.

Again, Hank dashed to the slowly receding stairs, slowly sucking into the confines of the small jet, and with the door still wide open, open enough to jump in. At the second to last stair, Hank jumped in before the stairs receded completely, on his feet, and in shock to look at Connor and the woman kissing each other tenderly.

"What..." Hank paused. "...the fuck?"

Hank slowly closed the door, and turned the crank tight. The two broke their kiss. "Connor," Hank paused again. "We need to fucking talk."

"Hank Anderson?" Claire asked.

"Please," Hank halted. "Fuck off."

Hank and Connor sat on the couches, face-to-face in front of each other. Claire slowly sat by Connor, with a suspicious expression.

"Sorry," Hank apologized to Claire. "I was about to talk about deviants and how you could've postponed the fucking plane and give me some time to board the shit and not leave me at the hospital, but I'm wondering the situation with you and your girlfriend, Connor."

Connor nodded silently. "She's... a friend-"

"You were literally making out with her, and I'm not sure normal android-human acquaintances or any acquaintances do that, check your fucking logic," Hank stared at the well-dressed woman. "Who are you?"

"Claire Sawyer," Claire replied.

"Why are you affiliated with Connor then?"

Claire went silent. "She designed me," Connor started to break the silence. "Apparently Mr. Kamski and Amanda did not make it all on their own, and she started it all... started with the first commercial android, then... me."

"So, you're kind of like fucking your mom-"

"No!" Claire screamed. "Don't cross a goddamn line on that one, I only realized the similarities when I climbed up the stairs. You two have a great father-son relationship, so, that's that."

"Eh..." Hank trailed off. "Speaking of fucking, are you actually fucking?"

Claire began to blush, and Hank looked at her in a sort of disappointed look. "Well, fuck me gently, you are," Hank nodded. "Great, I have two shits to deal with."

"Is this a very great deal, Lieutenant Anderson?" Connor asked.

"It's Hank, Connor!" Hank lashed at him. "It's just... surprisingly shocking."

"Of course it fucking is!" Claire rasped.

A ping emanated from the plane. "Hello Flight AT47. We require you to fasten your seatbelts to prepare for take-off," pause, "thank you for your cooperation."

"Buckle up," Claire exclaimed.

"No shit, Sawyer," Hank smugly replied.

The three all buckled up, and the plane started to rev its engine. A loud rumble shook the plane, reversing and stopping to prep for the takeoff of the jetting plane.

The jet dashed through the tarmac and slowly catapulted itself through the air, now freely flying with a bit of a shake.

Connor looked through the window looking at the dark sky. A faded blue that was going to get much bluer. Connor had no sense of the feeling of appreciation of beauty and the feeling of being small, but this seemed to be a close emulation of it. This was his first flight after all, and unsurprisingly without the fear.

"Well," Hank paused. "Where are we going?"

"A casino in Las Vegas," Claire iterated.

"I know the Las Vegas bit, Sawyer," Hank blathered.

"Rockefeller Chateau," Connor answered. "Five stars on Google reviews. High-class hotel. We're getting the executive suite, third to last floor of the main chateau of the Rockefeller-"

"Chateau," Hank filled the gap. "Fucking fancy as fuck."

"It is," Claire replied. "It cost us a thousand dollars per person for the room."

Hank raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?" Hank asked. "That's for a goddamn executive suite."

"Well we have a perk," Claire reasoned. "We're near the murder site, Lieutenant."

Everyone was silent.

"Oh," Connor's LED turned yellow for a second. "The executive suite is actually one of the VIP suites. We're on the second level of the VIP suite, that's why it's quite expensive. A Premium Standard costs six hundred."

"That's still expensive," Hank was still shocked of the price.

"We're in the Las Vegas Strip, Hank," Claire coaxed. "No surprise. We're near to a very popular theater and restaurant, so, we're beside two busy markets."

A ping emanated from the plane again. "You can now unbuckle your seatbelts. The bar is now open. Remember, you can order food as you go in the plane at any time when the seatbelt sign is off," the voice paused. "Thank you."

Hank unbuckled his seatbelt and instantly stood up. "I'll get a steak if it's possible," Hank exclaimed. "I ran a fucking marathon to get to you."

* * *

Claire looked at Connor oddly. Connor kept on looking at her... with a yellow LED.

"What's wrong?" Claire looked at him, continued to glare at him with a curious eye.

"I don't know what to do with you, Claire," Connor replied. "Should I do you senselessly right now?"

Claire bit her lip. "Keep it natural, Connor," she paused and leaned in. And then, their tongues collided with each other, their lips lapping and smashing into each other. Sure, the rough things they liked felt better, but nothing matched the elegance and the intimacy of a kiss.

Well, sex is more intimate-I don't know. Be the judge of that.


	5. It's Las Vegas

Claire sighed. "Las-fucking-Vegas," Claire inhaled the chilly air, "I've never been here. Glad we are, Connor."

"Remember, we're here for a murder," Hank reminded. "Let's hope it isn't as gruesome."

The plane glided on the tarmac of McCarran and then halted in its tracks, gradually slowing down before touch down. The trio stood up, and opened the airplane door, impatiently waiting for the stairs to budge out and slowly glide down to the tarmac.

The trio went down the stairs, looking completely oblivious of the noise of the plane. Then, it was the same protocol. The stairway, and then the terminal.

After passing the gates, they all looked at the arch in front of them.

'Welcome to Las Vegas,' said the neon sign, and the three stood still at the colorful sign. Claire's hands intertwined with Connor, and then, Connor held her warm hands, eager for Connor's synthetic touch.

"Welcome to Sin City, Connor," Hank stopped.

Hank was silent.

Claire sighed. "Lieutenant-"

"I acknowledge your existence, Sawyer," Hank loudly stated. "Just... let's go."

The three walked through the archway. Claire felt an unmistakable feeling that she was open to the world, not secluded in her apartment. She was finally released when she had the courage to make Connor find his way into her. That broken feeling was... well... broken.

Claire looked at the stark windows showing the grandeur lights of Paradise itself, Las Vegas. Because Paradise is actually a real town _inside_ Las Vegas. Redundancy.

Hank instantly found an open lift, wide open, urging for someone to flood in.

"Connor," Claire called him as they followed Hank casually sauntered in the lift. "Do you have a coin?"

"I always carry a coin," Connor adjusted his tie as the lift doors closed. He produced a large penny in his pocket, and positioned his two hands far apart.

"Not this fucking time," Hank swore.

Claire looked at the coin. "Wait!" Claire warned. "Put your right down," she positioned her right hand in line with Connor's left. "Toss it to me."

Connor's coin flew in a straight line in the air, in line with Claire's hand. Claire caught it, buried in the web of her fingers, and then, suddenly she released it, flying straight. Not the most elegant throw, but passable.

"How in the fucking hell can you do that?" Hank asked in an escalated tone. Connor caught the coin, and Claire slowly panned her head to him, and still catching and tossing.

"He's competent enough, Hank," Claire enunciated. "Oh, correction- _Anderson._ "

Claire whipped her head to the LED above the door of the elevator. 31. McCarran had a great makeover since the era of James Bond's classic Diamonds are Forever. Definitely.

"Let's raise the stakes, Connor," she said as she caught the coin. She flipped it with a flick of her thumb and caught it mid-air, and flicked it back. Connor raised his hand swiftly and caught it, and then, the two were taking the game to the next level. Literally.

"Okay, what the fuck?" Hank continued to slowly drag his words dumbfounded. "First of all, you two look weird. Secondly, what kind of sorcery is this shit?"

Claire grabbed the coin, and dropped it, catching it with her right. "Catch, Hank."

Hank caught it, surprisingly. "Well, shit," Hank paused again. "How do I pass it on? Does it go like this?"

Hank flicked the coin, in a straight line, in a fast speed, eventually caught by Connor's hand.

"Nice shot, Lieutenant," Connor complimented.

"Can I try again?" Hank asked, trying to hide any trace of the one-up of his own self-esteem.

And the elevator pinged and opened"Maybe," Connor gave a reply.

Claire dug into her dress and grabbed a phone out of a pocket. "I'm calling a cab."

* * *

Connor's arm wrapped around Claire's back side of her neck and Claire leaned her head on it, both not minding the eyes of Hank watching them displaying blatant PDA.

"Let's play some music," Hank turned on the radio. It flickered, with motifs of pop synths playing simple chord progressions in the background and the sound of dry drums and plainly perfect female vocals in the mix. "Connor, can you search up an actual good fucking metal radio station?"

"83.6 FM," Connor replied sharply.

The radio flickered again and again until the sound of djent guitar and guttural screaming vocals blared through the car.

Claire had an immediate face full of confused disapproval. Hank took notice. Quick. "Well, Claire Sawyer, why don't you have your own suggestions?" Hank talked back in a sarcastic and stern fashion. "I'm betting Connor a hundred dollars you listen to pop bullshit."

"I have no cash, Lieutenant," Connor admitted.

"Shit!" Hank hissed. "Sawyer, you're going to be behalf on Connor."

"Fine," Claire pulled out her phone and accessed the bluetooth option on the radio. And then the chugging galloping guitar intro of Barracuda started playing. Claire gave a glare with a sick-of-your-bullshit smile. "Where's my hundred dollars, Lieutenant Hank Anderson?"

"Fuck!" Hank hissed again before getting out a hundred dollar bill from his pocket, and handed it to Claire where Claire swiftly snatched it from him. "You win this time."

"Don't underestimate people, Hank," Claire advised. "Or you might get your ass beaten."

Hank stifled a laugh. But still, every one in the cab heard it. "Ass beaten by a woman?" Hank asked. "I don't believe that you... of all people, can beat me up."

Claire moved closer. "Bitch," Claire grabbed a can of pepper spray from a compartment in the car. "I will spray you fucking hard that you'll be the male version of fucking Helen Keller, do you understand me?"

"How did you get that?" Hank backed in fear to a corner.

"It was installed in a secret compartment for preventing rape," Connor stated. "The company had figured out that females and very rarely males had been in a victim of a rape relationship. Their captors had hailed these types of cabs since they discovered that the company had installed no security measures for privacy."

"Jesus!" Hank quietly shrilled. "Okay, just put it down!"

Claire put the pepper spray back in the compartment and sat down without a word. "Okay, I've heard this song too many times. I'm playing another."

"Thank fucking God," Hank sighed from a breath of air conditioning. "Make it at least decent heavy rock."

The song started with a cha-cha like drum machine. Then, everything came in. "For fuck's sake, Claire, can't you pick another song?" Hank bitched. Again. "Other than Heart of Glass or disco shit?"

"This is going to be a fun ride," Claire hid a smile.

* * *

The hotel entrance was basically a mimic of the Chateau of Versailles. And Connor had realized they had just been stepping on the Marble Court, a floor embellished with symmetrical patterns, black and white marble.

"I've been to France, and this is the best recreation of the entrance," Claire smiled. Connor continued to peruse the hotel, and the entrance extended to buildings that all unified together in the same French 17th century era.

The three ushered in, and saw what they thought was a beautiful sight. Crystal chandeliers draping down from the ceiling sparkled in just white beauty and tables with white tablecloths on them were dotting the place, and then, there was yellow and black police tape at the end of the hallway. Just near the casino.

Hank continued to admire the place. At least he was wearing _decent_ shit on himself. And bathed. He was wearing a grey jacket over a tidy shirt and dark pants. It was decent enough and actually made him just a marginal bit sociable.

"Hello," Connor nodded to the androids guarding. "I am an RK800 detective android model. We came her to discuss and investigate the case of the murder here in Rockefeller Chateau."

"You are unauthorized to come in here. Only Las Vegas police detectives are authorized," the male android said in a monotone voice. "Police detectives are investigating the case right now."

"Okay, listen here you little shit," Hank said in a gravelly voice, presenting his Detroit Badge tucked into his wallet proudly. "If you do not grant us access to the case, your ass will be deported to... Detroit-that didn't make sense at all."

"I am not affilliated with CyberLife at all," the android spat back. "I am a customized android specifically designed for the casino. If you trespass, Las Vegas Police will send you in jail for three years."

Connor's LED blinked yellow for a second.

"Fine," Claire settled. "But in any way, please, give us the photographs."

"You are not authorized to ask for that as well."

"Let me try," Connor waved off Claire. "I know the murder scene. A CyberLife android showed deviancy and brutally murdered a human. CyberLife is branching its company and is now used commercially here in Nevada. If you do not let us have access to the photographs of this murder scene, we, CyberLife and I will be absolutely certain that you and the other non-CyberLife androids be replaced. Do you understand me?"

The android nodded. "We will give you physical copies of the photographs tomorrow? The arcade opens tomorrow also, so you can investigate the spot where it happened.

"Thank you," Connor courteously thanked the android and led the three to the nearest lift.

The lift closed and rose up slowly. "Well, what now?" Claire asked.

"We wait," Hank coldly replied.

After the ride, they entered their room. It was a sprawling living room, and then, two doors on each side, individual bedrooms. No bedroom for Connor, because... he's a fucking android.

Hank sighed and looked at Claire. "G'night, Claire," Hank slurred. "G'night, Connor."

"Good night," the two said in unison before Hank opened and slammed the door on them.

"Well, Connor," Claire turned her back and opened the door. "I have to go to bed, y'know. Humans sleep for a fact."

"Is that an invitation?" Connor asked, leaning closer to Claire. "Cause if it is, you wouldn't sleep, Claire. And I doubt you won't. You took two cups of coffee at the plane. So, we have a lot of time to waste."

Connor's fingers checked her pulse.

 _She's ready._

"Oh, Connor," Claire smiled, and then yanked him closer for a sloppy kiss. Their tongues flicked and snaked against each others, and Connor pushed themselves in the room, with a slam of the door.


End file.
